It started out innocently enough, with kisses and caresses and shared breath that tasted like sugared white grapes. Fading sunlight barred the bed linens with ruddy gold and painted liquid copper across Viggo's arms and chest, and Sean found his attention caught by the contrast of tanned skin, sunlight and shadow. When Viggo hummed his impatience at going too long between kisses and reached for him, tried to draw him back down, Sean made a shushing noise and gently pushed him back against the pillows.
"Let me look at you," he said.
"You've seen me before," Viggo mumbled. "Come here."
Sean growled at him and put his hand on Viggo's chest. "Be still. Just for a minute." He ran his fingertips across chest and bicep, flank and belly, and Viggo shifted, raised his hips enough to dislodge the spill of sunlight across his skin. Sean pressed down with both hands, saw the flare of emotion in Viggo's eyes---lust? anger?---and found himself pressing harder than he normally did, palms flat against muscle and bone. Viggo struggled, eyes going dark and wide, lips thinning tight.
"Sean."
"Lie still." Sean stared him down. A flush painted Viggo's cheekbones, washed down into his throat where a pulse beat in the dip between his collarbones. Without meaning to, without really thinking, Sean moved, straddled Viggo's narrow hips and reached for the hands already reaching to push him away. What started off as a token gesture of protest---Viggo sometimes liked to be overpowered and taken, although he'd never admit it unless he was high or drunk---turned into a real struggle. Sean forgot about the sweetness of the setting sun's light; right now, he wanted only to win this game. He had the advantage of surprise and muscle memory and a quick recall of Billy's knot-tying lessons. Their discarded shirts served as restraints. He found himself blinking down at Viggo stretched beneath him with his hands tied to the headboard and bright fury turning his light-colored eyes to cloudy ink.
"Fucker."
Sean laughed at the venom in Viggo's rasp. "I'm not going to hurt you, Vig."
"I don't fucking like this!"
Sean sat back on his heels and just looked at him. Looked his fill at the shadows creeping across the bed as the sun gave way to early evening. Looked his fill at the long line of Viggo's torso, the arch of his bound arms, the tufts of hair in his armpits, the cup of his navel. Viggo's loose jeans rode low on his hips, gaped away from the tender skin of his lower belly. Sean leaned down and pressed his cheek there, just above the gaping waistband, against slightly-damp skin. He took a deep breath of denim and Viggo, salt and copper and cotton. Viggo's breathing was unsteady, whether from anger or anticipation, and Sean found himself counting breaths. At twenty, he turned his head and pressed his face to Viggo's crotch and smiled at what he felt against his forehead and nose and chin.
"Bastard," Viggo grumbled.
The zipper was cold and metallic against his tongue. Sean found he liked the satisfyingly thick feel of denim between his teeth and tried hard not to laugh at Viggo's steady mumbled curses. He tilted his head to look up and saw that Viggo had turned his head, pressed his face hard against his own arm. Was he ashamed he was turned on? Angry? A little of both?
It didn't matter.
Sean hooked his thumbs in Viggo's belt loops and pulled. Denim scraped softly against skin, raising a flushed mark that he soothed with his tongue. He licked the thin line of wiry hair that trailed from Viggo's navel down to the shadowed gap between denim and skin. Viggo made a sound in his throat---moan? laugh?---and moved his hips just the tiniest bit.
Sean sat up, sank back on his heels. The room swam a bit from his abrupt change in position, from the change from subtropical heat between Viggo's thighs to the early-evening coolness in the room. The sun was gone now, and only the thinnest slice of pink stained the bit of sky he could see. The lovely copper that had painted Viggo's skin was gone, replaced by velvety blue shadows, paler and lovelier than bruises.
Sean waited until Viggo met his gaze, and then he began to unzip his own trousers. Viggo's gaze dipped down to his groin. Sean saw the flicker of tongue on lower lip, saw the trail of goosebumps that broke out on Viggo's arms. He slid his hand inside his trousers, gripped his cock. Just held it, just as he held Viggo's gaze again.
"Please tell me you're going to do something that involves me." Viggo's tone was dry.
"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll just have you watch me."
Viggo blinked at him. Breathed out slowly. Even in the dying light, Sean could see the pulse jumping in his throat. He had the urge to bite there, not hard, just enough to feel the rush of blood beneath the skin. He raised his hips so that Viggo could see his slow stroking.
"Fuck." Viggo closed his eyes, rolled his head back and forth. "Sean. Come on. Please."
Christ. He was starting to leak, clear liquid beading at the tip of his cock. Sean groaned and used his other hand to push his trousers down around his thighs. He'd always loved this, loved jacking off, stroking his cock until his breath locked in his chest and his vision blurred from the sweet ache in his balls. He made himself slow down, made himself loosen his grip. Let his fingertips skate across the sensitive head to gather the wetness there. Viggo was squirming against the mattress, eyes locked on Sean's hands and cock. Sean reached out and ran his wet fingertips around the circle of Viggo's navel, and the growl that rolled from Viggo's throat was feral.
"Fuck me. Please fuck me."
Oh, he loved hearing Viggo beg, loved hearing the hitch in his voice and the way he swallowed the hard edges of consonants. He knew that before he loosened the knots that held Viggo's arms above his head, he'd hear him lapse into Spanish or Danish or both, breathless pleas and curses made sweeter by Viggo's loss of control.
A streetlight shone its milky light through the window, chased shadows across the bed. Sean looked down at the dark patch of Viggo's pubic hair. He let his gaze travel down Viggo's beautiful legs, muscled and strong from running and riding and gardening. Sean let go of his own cock to run his palms from Viggo's knee to inner thigh, watched Viggo's cock bob.
"Spread your legs," Sean told him softly, and Viggo obeyed without blinking. A bead of sweat ran down his ribcage and dropped to mottle the white sheet beneath him. Sean pushed his own trousers all the way off and knelt between Viggo's legs. Heat was rising off Viggo's skin, and his eyes were as dark as the night pressing against the window. When Sean reached down and curled his fingers around Viggo's shaft, the sound Viggo made---a low, husky "Unnnhhh!"---went straight to his own cock. "Don't come," Sean told him. "Not yet. Not until I'm fucking you."
Sean let go of Viggo's cock and let his hands slide to cup Viggo's balls. He closed his eyes at Viggo's grunt of pleasure. Warm skin, soft as silk. He leaned down, rested his head against Viggo's thigh. He loved the way Viggo smelled, salty but not sour, musky but not sweet. When he let his fingertips brush against Viggo's asshole, he felt the shudder that ran up the tense thigh beneath his cheek.
Viggo was moaning continuously now, his legs moving restlessly against the sheets. Sean kept his eyes closed and let his head drop lower, let his hands spread Viggo's thighs wide. He licked softly at the taut sac, dimly heard Viggo's sharp groan, before he nuzzled his way down, spreading Viggo's cheeks, touching his tongue to the tight puckered hole.
Spanish, this time. Shouted to the roof. Viggo's heels beat on the mattress as Sean tongued him, loosening him up, slicking him down. Viggo was gasping and shouting at him, his body opening up under the rhythmic onslaught of his tongue, and that surrender was enough for Sean. He gave one last wet lick and rose up, hauled Viggo's legs over his shoulders, and wedged his aching cock against the slippery wetness he'd just created.
"Yes," Viggo groaned. "Oh God, yes, fuck me, please Sean, now, I need---"
"This," Sean muttered, and he thrust in slowly and steadily and watched Viggo fall apart beneath him. Having his hands bound and his legs up like this left him at the mercy of Sean's pace, and that suited Sean fine. He worked his hips in slow little hitches until Viggo was gasping and red-faced and wild-eyed.
"More," Viggo groaned, and Sean gave him what he wanted, slow and steady and hard until all he could hear was the slap of flesh against flesh, the creak of the bedsprings, and Viggo's throaty cries and muttered pleas for more, faster, harder.
Sean watched as Viggo arched beneath him, half in darkness, half in light, fingernails clawing at the headboard as semen burst in spatters across his flat belly. He howled and bucked against Sean's body, and Sean had the space of a long breath to revel in the heat and tightness surrounding his cock before he was unraveling, one long groan rolling up from his belly as he came, fingertips digging into the hard muscles of Viggo's thighs. He turned his head and bit Viggo's calf, felt/heard Viggo's shocked half-laugh, half-groan. When he opened his eyes, he thought he saw white stars flickering against the darkness like afterburn from his orgasm. Sean breathed in the smell of sweat and skin and sex and felt his shadow slip away, sated for now.
"Bastard," Viggo mumbled a few minutes later. "Untie me before my arms fall off."
"You can get out of those knots yourself," Sean replied.
"The hell I can."
Sean opened his eyes. "Pussy."
"Wanker."
It took all of his strength to crawl up the bed and work at the knotted cotton. Viggo moaned and rolled onto his side, grumbled about lack of circulation and a safety word.
"You loved every minute of it," Sean informed him. He stretched out on his side and watched Viggo's ribcage move as he breathed. The moon was out, and her light frosted the window and mixed with the milky glow of the streetlight. Viggo turned over to face him, and all Sean could see of his face was the faint gleam of his eyes, coin-bright in shadow. Warm breath wafted across his cheek.
"I won't be able to sit down tomorrow," Viggo said, and Sean heard the smile in his voice. He reached out and felt the steady thump of Viggo's heart, tugged gently on the sweat-dampened hair that covered his chest.
"Sleep," Sean told him. "I promise to behave."
Viggo snorted, but a few minutes later, his breathing evened out. Sean stroked soft, tousled hair, ran one fingertip along the sharp crest of a warm cheekbone. His muscles ached pleasantly, and he knew every move tomorrow would remind him of this, remind him of Viggo's willing body and his own surprising desires. He fell asleep thinking of shadows, and he dreamt of shades.
Summary: Sometimes, Viggo likes to be overpowered and taken.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: No
Word count: 1910 Read: 768
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009
Story Notes:
Kink